Sailing Blog
Nicholas Hill
7th May 2008
Laptops and Gadgets
I bought a laptop some years ago, to use as a chartplotter - in those days, the laptop was probably cheaper than the plotter! Both have dropped considerably in price since then: a reasonable laptop is about the same price as a good plotter. It was an end of range IBM - I got an IBM in the hope it would be robust, and it's worked well enough so far. You can guess its age if I tell you it only has USB 1.1 - although I have a PCMCIA card with 2 USB 2 ports, useful for attaching external disks or USB sticks.
The advantage of a laptop over a plotter is screen resolution; the drawback is that it's down on the chart table (decent waterproof plotters are relatively recent). But you can use a laptop for a lot more. I use it for word processing (writing this blog, for example!), downloading pictures from the camera (I bought a fancy digital SLR when I retired, an Olympus E500) and then tweaking them (in a very old version of Corel PhotoPaint), and, more and more these days, surfing the net and sending emails via wifi. More and more harbours have wifi these days: some, as in Denmark, are free; others charge an arm and a leg (hello, Belgian Telecom). And, of course, watching DVDs. Who hasn't been weatherbound in some harbour and at a loose end? (I was stuck for a fortnight in Rømø last year, which is not the world's most exciting place.)
At the moment, the laptop is connected to a Garmin 152. But trouble is looming - the Garmin seems to be playing up. It won't allow you to edit waypoints - any attempt to do this just creates a new waypoint. This is even more annoying since it's also linked to a NASA repeater in the cockpit. The 152 seems to be the only fixed non-plotter GPS set about. I had the 128 on the previous boat, and the 152 is supposed to be an 'improvement', but as far as I can see, the new software isn't a patch on the 128. It also needs a serial to usb converter, and the one I've got seems to have 'issues'.
I've just ordered a GlobalSat USB GPS receiver - at £13.50 including postage it seems worth giving it a go. It'll be down on the chart table, and not outside, but the little Etrex seems to work well enough inside. We'll see.
6th May 2008
Pierhead Jump ...
... being a phrase used for a last minute crew member.
A friend of mine, Jonathan, regularly races an slightly elderly Swan 38 across the Channel, and often further afield. He has done several Fastnets. It is a boat which needs quite a few crew. I've been with him a few times, but that sort of racing is not really for me. However, he rang me in desperation on Thursday. 'Crew dropped out. Can you come?' So I said yes.
There were actually two races: Cowes/Cherbourg, and Cherbourg/Cowes, run by JOG. We left Birdham Pool in Chichester early Friday morning, spent a few hours in Cowes, and headed out for a 1700 start off Egypt Point. There was little wind and a foul tide. We made a poor start, got swept back by the tide, and things didn't improve as the wind faded. At one point, off Newtown, the boat did a complete 360 as we lost steerage. But the tide had turned and was taking out through Hurst, where we picked up some wind. Quite a bit of wind. I was on the helm, trying to find Bridge buoy in the dark whilst everyone else was changing headsails. An interesting fifteen minutes. After that, it was a good sail to Cherbourg with a SE wind. But given our start, we were almost last in the race.
To make matters worse, one of our crew had to return to England by ferry. leaving us with only four crew for the race back. Four, you might say - plenty. Not on this boat. The headsails are enormous. A sail change needs a minimum of two people and preferably three. Then there's the helsman - which means no one off watch.
The return start was at 1100 on Sunday. Again the wind was light and variable - even getting out of Cherbourg involved a couple of tacks. Then very slow progress. The weather was miserable, with spots of rain. Then excitement. Wind! Sail change! Wind drops. Sail change. We were getting a little fed up. Finally the wind settled to a light NNE, but we were now fighting the tide. A lot of thought was needed. We did a couple of rather good tactical tacks, and got past the forts around eight o'clock. I went down to snooze, but was recalled close to the finish line for more sail changes. To my amazement, we were surrounded by all our competitors, all fighting the tide to Gurnard. We got over eventually, and headed back to Chichester.
Just as we were leaving to go home, Jonathan gets a phone call. We had won our class on handicap! Good bit of navigation, says I. After all, I hadn't been that much use as a crew - but I had suggested when to tack. ANd it was those tacks wot won it!
28th April 2008
Where To Next?
Rather like Rob [see Where to Next?], I usually have no Great Plan as to where I'm going. I might decide: back to the Baltic! After that, it's a question of how; what route should I take? As to what I do when I get there, that's another story. Since I shall be spending most of the summer on the boat [I hope!], then I tend to look ahead no more than three or four harbours.
And so we had arrived in Norderney. The Plan said Cuxhaven next, then the Kiel Canal. Two snags. Rob wanted to be back to run in yet another marathon, and the wind was forecast as 'O6' at the clubhouse - Ost 6, or Easterly Force Six. Not a good idea for going to Cuxhaven which is ... almost due east!
What to do then? I could have stayed in Norderney by myself until the weather improved. It would have given me time to recuperate [it had been a good crossing in very many ways, and fast, but not what I would call exhilarating]. But it was definitely not summer yet. I had been amused earlier at the sight of elderly couples, all wrapped up, sitting up against the wall of yacht club, which acted as something of a suntrap. Something told me that the population of Norderney included a lot of retired folk ...
I had another problem: I am in the middle of moving house, and being out of touch of estate agents and lawyers wasn't a good move. I spoke to the harbour master at the yacht club, Herr Pauls, and he seemed happy for me to leave the boat for four weeks - which is what we decided to do.
Returning to England was not without interest. In theory, it looked straightforward enough: ferry to the mainland, train to Bremen, RyanAir to Stansted. Just before we left, Herr Pauls asked if I had the mooring receipt from the night before. Locked up on the boat, I said. Ah. Then he wrote me a note for the ferry terminal. 'They will not let you on without it?' Why? Something to do with taxes, I gathered, but exactly what, I had no idea. And sure enough, the ticket collector started objecting, at which point I pulled out the note from Herr Pauls, and he let us through. We were baffled. I think the phrase is 'cultural differences.
A good [double decker!] train got us to Bremen. At the airport I discovered my next mistake. I had looked up the flights the night before, on the yacht club coin operated Internet terminal, but hadn't got as far as actually booking the flight. Big mistake. We walked up to the Ryanair desk and asked for tickets for the evening flight. They laughed and quoted us a preposterous figure. No, we said. Then we were given a number to ring. We tried the public phone box [no joy], Rob tried getting it on his mobile. Still no joy, and much frustration. Internet café next door; preposterous prices again. No, you can't book on line for a flight the next day. Maybe Ryanair want to make money from those desperate to fly, but as it was, they were going to leave two seats empty. Rob started ringing round hotels while I booked a flight for the morning. Finding a hotel wasn't that easy either; I could hear Rob's frustrated voice as I tried navigating the RyanAir website.
We did find somewhere to stay: the Seamen's Mission! We were dubious about this to begin with, but the rooms were clean, with an ensuite bathroom, and cheap enough at 38 euros for a single room. We spent the afternoon walking round Bremen, and I was very pleasantly surprised: there is a fair amount of the Old City left, and well worth seeing.
And in the morning, the taxi was waiting; we flew back, and all that was left was to negotiate the train service back home.
26th April 2008
The North Sea and The Frisian Islands
Partly as a result of having crashed out so early [by my standards], I was up early [by my standards!] the next morning, and the hour's time difference came to my advantage: the office was just being opened when I arrived there. I paid, Rob woke, and we cast off. Rob's acquaintance with the Netherlands was confined to a few feet of pontoon!
We took the ebb tide out, and the course to the top of this part of the coast was almost due north, as was the wind. We motorsailed for a while, as we had a long way to go. The wind, as it had been the day before, seemed to vary from a low F3 to a mid F4, but there was always enough to sail quite fast when the wind was free. Up at the corner, we decided to sail it anyway, put in a tack, then cleared the top.
In some ways, it was very uneventful. The sun shone, taking some of the edge off the chill, the breeze meant we could sail sail at 6+ knots. The autohelm coped without complaining, as it had done across the North Sea. Prospero is well balanced, and only once did we have to fiddle with the sails to keep the autohelm happy. It was a question now of ticking off the islands as they went past.
The main question when the sun went down, was where to stop. Borkum was straightforward enough, but we'd have been going in about midnight. Cuxhaven would have been feasible, but we'd have been negotiating the Elbe with too little sleep. Norderney seemed to be the answer. Unfortunately, we were going too fast! Heaving to whilst I cooked a beef stew took up some of the time, but then we had to bear away a little to aim for the island, which meant the boat speed went up to about 7 knots. How often is it that you complain you're going too fast??
There are two channels into Norderney: the Schluster from the west, and the Dovetief. I'd used both before. I had good paper charts, but the charts on the laptop were far too large a scale for this. We found the fairway bouy for the Schluster quite easily, and trickled up to it slowly. The sky was becoming lighter, but not light enough to pick out unlit bouys. At the fairway, we had to find the bouy marking the other end of the channel. Fl G (2+1) 15s. We saw a buoy doing just that. The trouble was that it was in the wrong place. Had they moved the channel? If so, it had been a big move. We sat there and debated, then, by chance, I caught sight of something. Yes! Right place, right characteristics. Not as bright as the other one. Later, I realised that they were both marking points where the channel divides [red band round the middle of the green buoy], but to my mind, it was a highly dangerous combination.
The buoys sorted, we could estimate the course from the chart. There were three unlit red buoys about 500m apart. The sails were down, and I motored fairly gently forwards. The first red popped up less than 50 yards off the bow. Although it was getting lighter, we only saw it when it was about 100 yards away. The second popped up in the same way. 'Ah,' I said to Rob, 'George steers a good course!' 'George' is my occasional nickname for the autohelm [obsolete RAF slang for an automatic pilot], and Rob had been slightly irritated in Den Helder about my insistence on using it right up the the marina entrance. 'Beep!' as I press the +10 degrees button; 'beep, beep!', another 20 degrees, and so on. It's a habit derived from single handing, when I want to give all my attention to my surroundings, and not worry about the tiller. And George probably steers a better course than I do.
But, ah ... hubris! By now, I had become over confident. We ploughed on until suddenly the swells became steeper, almost breaking. The shallow alarm beeped. We were in trouble. 'Reverse,' said Rob, as we bumped. Advice I should have thought of earlier. We bumped again. I could hear the sound of breaking waves around us. We backed out into slightly deeper water, my heart in my mouth.
I looked in front of us, and saw the buoy had drifted from its transit with the street lights. I had taken my eye off the ball - or the buoy. I motored so as to bring it back, and we rounded it with a great sense of relief. We never did see the third red.
Why had we drifted off? There wasn't much wind, and we'd gone from the fairway to the first two reds faultlessly. My guess was tide: if it was flooding, it might well have been at right angle to our course. As any mathematician will tell you, if you're doing 3.4knots through the water, and have a tidal set of 2 knots at right angles, you will be set down by 30 degrees! The track on the GPS would have told me that - if I'd been looking. Even so, with a distance of less than 500m to cover, we couldn't have been more than 100m or so from the red buoy. Later, when I told the harbourmaster about this, he said, 'The Schluchter is not good this year.'
So, lesson learned? Don't try a channel like this in the dark. We could have hove to for half an hour. Wtach your transits. Watch your GPS track. And most important - don't get overconfident. You're not safe until you're round the buoy.
From there on, we trickled in very slowly - probably over cautiously, but apart from anything else, I wanted it to be lighter. We found the harbour very easily, found the sailing club [almost empty at this time of year], found one very long pontoon [a Dutch boat was on the other side], and tied up, tired and relieved.
The sailing club at Norderney. This is a panoramic composite from several shots. The original is 6000 pixels wide, so I thought I'd better shrink it.
On the right is Rob, my long suffering crew, looking very relieved to have arrived. Not only did he put up with me, he was an excellent seaman, and better still, an excellent crew, who would spend his time going round and tidying up after me! Rob is alos a magazine star, with a feature in the latest Yachting Monthly. He has just bought a 41 foot Grand Soleil, Canasta, with the aim of sailing away into the sunset - but with a difference. Influenced by the author Luke Reinhart [The Dice Man], the choice of destination is going to be up to his followers. Where To Next? You have the chance to vote. Go to his website: Where to Next?
21 April 2008
Ramsgate and the North Sea
This update has been delayed by several factors, one being the loss of internet connection! The other? Getting the boat to Germany.
I had left the boat in Ramsgate for 10 days [at a cost of £195!], and returned to find a visiting boat moored the other side of me. The gap between us was less than a foot, and his fenders had popped up, leaving his toerail free to graunch the side of Prospero. The VHF aerial which I had fitted for the AIS was also broken and lying over at an angle of ninety degrees. Enquiries still on-going!
My crew, Rob, was running the London Marathon on the Sunday, and took the train down the next day. We went over to the fuel pontoon and took on a lot of diesel [my last chance for cheap fuel!]. Then it was out of the harbour into the North Sea.
The forecast had been for strongish northerly winds, but we motored out into an almost flat calm - well, not flat ... there was the ubiquitous swell rolling in from the north. We were also fighting a strong tide, so progress was slow. The AIS was proving its worth, however - we could see ships up to 25 or 30 miles away, and given that we were close to the Dover Straits, there were a lot of them!
We were still motoring as the sun set, although a little wind had come up to help us. It wasn't until probably around midnight that I could reel out the jib and turn the engine off. Rob was down below at the time, and the wind slowly rose as the night went on. It also became extremely lumpy. I was below trying to doze when it became clear we needed to reef, and doing this in the dark was not fun.
My plan was to run parallel to the main shipping lane that came out of the Channel towards the northwest corner of the Netherlands. We were perhaps five miles off: far enough to be well clear, but close enough to see the lights of the oncoming traffic. The only lane we had to cross was the Deep Water route, which was very quiet. On the AIS I could see the mass of traffic turning off for Europort. Certainly, the AIS proved its worth on this trip. As well as the traffic in the lanes, there were all sorts of ships 'doing their own thing', and the AIS could tell us straightaway whether they would be a problem or not.
After daybreak, the wind eased a little, and we went down to one reef. The wind was just west of north, and since our course was almost exactly northeast, we could sail a little free of the wind. I've taken the single line reefing off the second reef [which meant Rob struggling at the mast to tie the clew down], but the line still doesn't pull the sail back tight enough, and the problem lies with the aluminium strips used for the lazyjacks. It's something I'll need to ponder.
With the rising of the sun, it was now quite pleasant, and we were moving fast. We carried along our course until near the Dutch coast. Here the lanes move apart as they go round an oil installation, and we crossed here, in relatively light traffic. The course alteration meant that we now had the wind on our beam. There were still a lot of oil or gas well heads, but with plenty of room to keep well clear. We came onto the Dutch coast a few miles from Den Helder, but now had to fight a strong ebb tide all the way in, which slowed us considerably. As we came into the harbour, I saw a Dutch 'Kustwaatch' [I hope I've got that right] boat coming in at the same time. We went round into the small marina which is run for the Dutch Navy, and had fun mooring. Our first berth was too far from the electricity point, and we had to try again. The mooring was odd to English eyes: a half length pontoon, with a post to which you attach a stern line. Much fun and games.
We were both exhausted. On the chart, the distance was 160 miles [probably a little more], which we'd done in about 32 hours. That was an average of 5 knots over the ground, and given we'd been fighting quite a tide at the beginning and the end, we had probably averaged 6 knots through the water. Not bad.
So, there I was standing in the cockpit nursing a stiff gin, when I saw a car draw up on the quayside. Three men in black climb out, and I get that feeling. They were heading our way. Dutch Customs. They'd been on the Kustwaatch launch we'd seen earlier - and they'd seen us.
They were quite polite, and reasonably friendly, but they wanted to see our paperwork, and ask us questions. Quite a few questions. I don't think we were obvious drug smugglers, though [I hope not!], but they were with us for some time. And then bed. Given that easterly winds were forecast for later in the week, it was to be the North Frisian coast in the morning.
6th April 2008
Off and Away! Ta Da!
The boat went back into the water last Monday, and then a rig check and engine service. Wednesday evening I went down to Gosport for the last time. I was joined by Godfrey who was going to accompany me on the trip to Ramsgate.
We did well with the weather window: Thursday and Friday were quite mild, with light winds. Saturday saw strong northerlies, and Sunday - well, Sunday saw the biggest snowfall of the winter in the South!
We cast off at 06:30. We were heading east, and had to make the Looe Channel off Selsey Bill before HW at 10:00. We just managed it, although when we got there, the tide was already against us. The wind was really too light to sail - we could have put the cruising chute up, but even with that, we wouldn't have made the ground. The tide turned in our favour at 17:00 and swept us round Beachy Head. We made the 19:00 lock at Sovereign Harbour in Eastbourne.
Sovereign Harbour might be a good pitstop, but is fairly soulless. It is Port Solent writ large. Good ablutions, and a good Indian restaurant. After that ... not much. And we weren't impressed by the locals.
So, out through the lock again at 07:30 in the morning. Almost no wind. This time we had the tide with us, and kept it after Dungeness, where the tide directions reverse. Very handy.
In Rye Bay we were intercepted by the Lydd Range boat, and steered a little further off to clear the guns [we had heard them earlier]. Past Dungeness, it began to get murky, and I checked the AIS. Boat dead ahead, approaching at 13.4 knots, CPA 0.2NM in 11 minutes time! We scanned the murk, and picked him up about 2 miles away. The great advantage of AIS is that you have prior warning, and you know where to look. In those conditions, we'd have seen him in good time, but it was nice not to be taken unawares.
Dover was the next 'challenge', and again, using the AIS, I had a good idea of what was coming and going. Vis was now poor - sometimes less than two miles. We had some fraught moments as ferry after ferry came in, but we eventually got past.
Past South Foreland, we had another alarm - the AIS had said the Pride of Canterbury was there, hardly moving, and when we saw him, we weren't sure quite what he was doing. Not very much, as it turned out, but it was an anxious few minutes as we went past.
We were still motoring. At the outset, I thought I'd got bags of fuel, but now the gauge was nudging empty. Worse still, we lost the tide. Would we make it? The wind had come up, but was dead astern, and we were on the point of sailing by the lee. The sail wasn't helping as much as we wanted it to. The final stretch to Ramsgate was slow and tedious. We had gone up the Gull Channel, and looking at the chart, would have done better to go through the inshore channel.
Still, we were in and tied up by about 18:30. And then a stiff drink!
We left the boat in Ramsgate, and I'm going down in a week's time. This time, I hope, North Sea and Germany!
25th March 2008
Dongles
Dongles? What they? you ask. Well, you either have to be a computer geek or one of the select few to know. I'm both.
Once upon a time (twenty years ago?), you would be given a dongle when you bought some software. The dongle would fit into a port on your computer [usually the printer port], and without it, you couldn't use the software - the idea being that you couldn't run a 'pirated' version. No dongle, no program. After a while, software companies began to realise that there were easier and better ways to prevent piracy, and ones which were more consumer friendly. Lose your dongle [or even leave it behind somewhere] and your software was useless. Consumers rebelled. Result - no more dongles. But if you don't care about your users, if you have a captive market, then you can say - use a dongle or else. Who do we know in the software market who still does this? Step forward, the United Kingdom Hydrographic Office!
Okay, I'll live with a dongle if I have to. It does take up a USB port. It does worry me when the boat's heeling over, as it sticks out from the back or the side, and is highly vulnerable. But if they want me use a dongle, then I'll have to live with it.
To economists, this is known as 'producer capture'. We, the consumer, need them, the producers, more than they need us. The Hydrographic Office is not a commercial organisation. It is not even part of the Civil Service as such - it is an 'agency'. It is supposed to recover its costs. Now, Admiralty charts are the 'Rolls Royce' of charts. They ahve a reputation. People buy them because they have a reputation. True, recently they have began to see the possibility of selling to 'leisure users', and their packs of leisure charts are good.
Digital charts are something else. Plotters have really taken off in the last couple of years, and now it's C-Map or whatever. No doubt, UKHO makes money selling data to these firms [although have you looked at the dates of the surveys on some of the charts?]. For those using PCs and laptops, however, there are the ARCS charts.
Which is where the dongles come in. First, buy your plotting program at vast expense. Then you go along to a chart agent and say, can I have these ARCS charts? Yes - they're on this CD. You'll need a licence, and you can unlock the relevant charts. Sounds easy, doesn't it?
To get the licence, he'll say, I need to know your name. Fine. The name of your boat. If you insist. Your PIN number and reference number. Err ....
PIN. You see, as well as the dongle, you are given a PIN. With some programs, not only do you attach the dongle but you also have to type in the PIN. And reference number? Well, that's related to your software.
You see, the licence only allows you to use the charts on a specific program! Change to a new plotting porgram [as I have done with the advent of AIS], and you're buggered. Almost. The UKHO site gives you this advice:
You will need to contact your Admiralty Distributor to advise them of new User Permit/PIN details. You Admiralty Distributor will then arrange for your original ARCS licence to be cancelled and a new one created. If you have subscribed to the ARCS Navigator service this is carried out free of charge as the same charts and original expiry date are transferred to a new licence. However if you have an ARCS Skipper licence an administration fee of £30 is payable. This is because when a new licence is created all the charts are re-supplied fully updated.
Aha! Nothing easier!
Why do they do all this? Software piracy! No illegal copying and file sharing here, if you will!
But with typical Civil Service disdain for the customers, they arrage it so it's easy for them and difficult for you. You can tell they're not interested in their customers. If they were, they'd get their heads out of their arses and look around at what the rest of the software industry has been doing for the past twenty years. But no - they're the Civil Service, and they know what's best for you. There's only one thing that surprises me - that they can still find a firm which will make dongles for them.
More on dongles.
18th March 2008
Elf'n'Safety
Many people of my generation grew up in an ethos where you were left to get on with things, and you took responsibility for your own actions. Things have changed, and nowadays there are few areas of life where ‘Health and Safety’ don’t impinge. If you have been brought up to be self-reliant, you feel you don’t need these regulations; you don’t need people breathing over your shoulder. And, to be fair, many stupid restrictions have come about as a result of misguided zeal or simple misinterpretation.
People who have things to be getting on with to be can be extremely irritated by being told they have to attend a two hour course on ‘How to Lift Heavy Objects’, or ‘How To Use a Ladder.’ And yet ... and yet ...
I was in the boatyard in Gosport yesterday antifouling the boat. A tedious but necessary job. I had almost finished when I heard a crash and thump a little way away. I looked down the row of boats, but didn’t see anything, and was about to carry on when I saw people hurrying towards the scene. I joined them.
There was a chap crouched on hands and knees, obviously in great pain. Off to one side, a wooden ladder lay on the ground. Apparently the ladder had slipped, and he had fallen quite some way. He landed on his feet – which was not a good idea, since he twisted both ankles quite severely. After a minute or so, another chap and myself tried hoisting him to his feet, but as soon as he tried taking any weight on his ankles, he crumpled again. We sat him down and rang for an ambulance.
He was obviously in much better shape by the time the ambulance arrived, and the crew put him on a stretcher and carried him away. We retrieved the ladder, and someone else went up to lock the boat up. I stayed at the bottom of the ladder, one foot on the lowest rung!
The ladder was wooden, and the surface was fairly smooth concrete with a thin layer of water over it. When the chap came down again, we tried sliding the ladder. It slipped very easily.
I bought a cheap and rather flimsy ladder from Homebase a few weeks ago – I selected that one mainly since it would fit in the car. It’s tied on at the top, and to the boarding ladder, but as an extra precaution, I went and fetched a very large, heavy block of wood that was lying about, and put it at the foot of the ladder. It won’t slip now. And the block makes a useful extra step.
Whether a two hour course on ‘The Use of Ladders’ would have helped this chap, I don’t know. However, I’m still amazed by the things we can get away with in boatyards. But I’d better keep quiet about that.14th March 2008
Sigh ...
What's the point of having a blog if you can't moan occasionally?
The anode was looking fairly thin, so I thought it was time to replace it. There is a engineering firm in the boatyard, so I go along and have a word with them. Mention that I'd like to be there to watch (useful to know how everything fits together).
No one rings, so I drop in again. Oh yes, they say, with an unspoken 'oops'. Engineer rings me the next day, and we arrange a date. On the morning in question I drive down, and and just starting to take the blades off when an engineer rolls up. He takes the prop off and then the anode. He hands the old anode to me.
'Got another one?' I ask.
'Er ... no.'
I silently count up to ten. 'Where can I get one, then?'
'You could try the yard next door,' he suggests
So I do that. No luck. I go back. 'Oh,' he says.
Now, you would think that if I asked them to change the anode, they'd have a new one ready. No, that's too obvious.
'Wasn't sure what size it was,' he says.
Um ... why not ring up Betamarine and ask? No, too difficult.
'We could order one,' he says.
What a good idea! Pity he didn't think of that earlier. So we go to the office, and I tell them what sort of engine it is, and they say they'll put in an order.
In the meantime, the prop and all its bits are now sitting in a bucket in the locker. And I suspect I'm going to have to go back in a few days and ask them if they've ordered a new one yet. Don't hold your breath.
And of course they charge by the hour ...
Saildrive leg: the anode is held on by the three bolts whose holes you can see. The propeller boss slides onto the splines.
4th March 2008
Last Year
The 2008 season is almost on us, although I'm sure the weather still has a few nasties in store.
This is what I got up to last year:
Each harbour I stayed in is marked with a yellow dot. I think it's a total of 37 [not counting Sassnitz - I poked my head in there, had a look round, and went back out again!]
In 2006, I toured the southeastern corner of the Baltic. The part I haven't been to is the north - although judging by the number of rocks people talk about, I'm not sure if I want to!
2nd March 2008
High and Dry
It's that time of year - the time when all good boats come out of the water for the ceremony of anti-fouling. Here's Prospero in Gosport. Not only antifouling, of course: first, the pressure wash to remove all the weed. Then the usual growth of barnacles and their tenacious residue. I tackled a good growth of barnacles and a crop of oysters on the saildrive leg with a cleaner which seemed to be hydrochloric acid. You can spray it on, but I'm glad I didn't - the thought of that mist being blown about ... Still, the oysters fizzed away nicely.
Also the time to do other jobs: I waxed and polished the lower part of the hull, up to the 'go faster' stripe', as you can see from the gleaming reflections. One of the snags of the deep keel and high freeboard is that I can't reach the upper part of the hull except with a very long ladder. It might be easier to do that when back in the water. Dark blue hulls like this do look good, but they show every scratch. Polishing helps a bit with this, but I ought to have known better - I had exactly the same issue with my previous boat. Looking into the future - well, the builders gave me a carton of the blue powder that went into the gel coat, so a major touch up should be possible without it looking too obvious.
The other maintenance issue was the teak decks. Well, I say teak decks, but they're really just cosmetic: a layer about 4mm thick stuck onto the fibreglass. This boat does have a large cockpit, though - I counted fifteen different panels of varying size. When I bought the boat the wood had a wonderful red tinge to it, but teak fades over time to a washed out light grey. This can be attractive at times, but shows all the dirt, and everything that's spilt on it. When wet, it darkens dramatically again.
So, what to do with it? One option was simply to leave it. But I knew whatever I did to it, I'd have to be careful - anything too aggressive would mean wearing the whole lot away in a year or two. Varnish was out: too much maintenance, and removing it at some time in the future would be a nightmare.
The option I've gone for at the moment is ... linseed oil! My reasoning? Whatever it does, it certainly won't harm the wood. It's cheap. It's easy. And touching up shouldn't be a problem. If I don't like it, or it doesn't really work, I can always try something else.
Here's a 'before and after':
The panel on the right had just had the oil applied - I dribble it on then smooth it in with an ordinary paint brush. It loses the glint when the oil's soaked in. It's not quite back to the original - it's too dark for that - but doesn't look bad at all. Two or three coats are needed, and so far I've used nearly all of a 500ml bottle (half a litre!).
I'm told it fades with time, but keeping it 'topped up', so to speak, shouldn't be a hassle. We'll see.
21st February 2008
AIS Up and Running!
I have just fitted Comar's AIS-2-USB receiver:
For a close up:
(You might notice it's slightly crooked. A good example of why I should never be let loose with a drill ...)
I bought it for its simplicity. It's USB powered, and needs just an aerial and a USB lead (you can see those on the left). LEDs on the other side show power and that you're receiving data. I fitted an aerial on the back rail, and it seems to work well enough. I fired up the laptop, and after a bit of fiddling, managed to it to work. Sitting in Gopsort Marina, I picked up something twelve miles away:
This is the detail you can get about vessels in the vicinity. It tells me the vessel's name, MMSI number, call sign, length and width! More usefully, it gives the destination (Southampton), then course, speed over the ground and rate of turn. Most useful of all, it also tells me that the closest point of approach is 2.50NM in 2417 minutes time! The data is 51 seconds old.
Not every ship gives all this detail, but I can imagine it would be invaluable in the shipping lanes.
This box is only of use with a laptop, of course, but Comar also do an NMEA version (I suspect this is just the NMea box with a serial to USB converter inside. Indeed, Windows identified it as just that: serial/USB converter.) I'm using it with seaPro software at the moment: I'm somewhat dubious about it at the moment, but perhaps it will grow on me. More when I've used it in anger, so to speak. And when they say it needs 512Mb of RAM, they mean it. My old IBM was only 256Mb, and ran everything I threw at it without a problem - but not SeaPro. I have some Maptech BSB charts, which are a little - say we say, rough and ready. However, in the Baltic I shall be using the wonderfully named Sportschiffartskarten (try saying that in a hurry), which gives you a CD-ROM with the paper charts - and they're very good too. They also have a website with port guides to all the harbours - free!
The back rail now loooks a bit like a Russian spy trawler, with the AIS aerial, NAVTEX asnd GPS antenna!
Websites:
Comar Systems, seaPro by EuroNav, and NV PortPilot, available in both German and English.
13th February 2008
The Elephant's Graveyard
Gosport is an excellent place to keep a boat - if you can afford it! Years ago, I moved into Haslar when it was half built, and cheap. Then prices started going up ...
From Portsmouth, anywhere in the Solent is within easy reach, and it's also a good jumping off point for Cherbourg or St Vaast. Even on a day sail, Spithead is nicely shgeltered by the Isle of Wight.
Across in Portsmouth itself, you've the dockyards, HMS Victory, and HMS Warrior - seen below from my berth in Gosport Marina:
Then, up Fareham Creek, is the rather sad sight of ships waiting to be sold off or scrapped. This is the 'elephant's graveyard'. You can see the assault ships Fearless and Intrepid below, the last steam driven ships in the Navy. Now they've been replaced by a new generation of ships, Bulwark and Albion (I went aboard the old Bulwark, then a helicopter carrier, in Mombasa, in about 1960!). In the distance you can see old frigates and destroyers also abandoned there.
But the same day that I took the picture above, I also saw this:
Shipbuilding is modular this days. This looks very much like the bow section of a new Type 45 destoyer, obviousl;y built by Vospers at Portchester. Just as well we're getting some new destroyers: the Type 42s must be twenty or thorty years old.
And of course there are destroyers, frigates and aircraft carriers tied up opposite the marina. Increased security means there's always a MOD plod boat cruising up and down. Must get extremely boring after a month or two!
7th February 2008
Boxes!
The Baltic has many advantages. One of them is that there is no tide, so you tie up on any convenient bit of quayside without having to worry about length of lines and so on.
This was in Pavilosta, Latvia, where they are building a new marina. (One British firm is still exporting: the posts with the electrical sockets were made in the U.K.!)
Sometimes, however, in crowded harbours, you have to enter a dreaded box.
This is not easy, especially if single handed. First you must pick one wide enough: many of them are too narrow for the likes of me to squeeze in with fenders down. You need a rope with a large bowline to drop over the top of the windward post as you go in. The snag if you're singlehanded is that you can't see how close to the quay you are - a large fender is needed here. When you think you're there, you have to abandon the helm and run forward to take a line ashore. Climbing over the bows is not fun with the conventional pushpit: you need the divided type.
Even then you haven't finished. If you were quick enough, and able to reach, you might have got a line onto the second post. The chances are that you didn't. This means backing out again to be able to reach it. Once on, you have then to maneouvre forward again. Oh, fun.
I've only had to do it once:
Once is enough.
2nd February 2008
Going Nowhere
Earlier, I described my embarrassment in Dokkum Lock. That was the second attempt at passing through it. Here is my account of the first attempt.
I had come through the lock at Lauersoog and into the Lauersmeer, spending the night at a nearby yachthaven rafted up against a big Bavaria, and we set off early next morning. The wind was quite strong, and the water very shallow! Approaching the lock, the wind was now blowing about Force 6 to 7, straight into the lock. I bottled out. Right next to the lock was the YachtHaven Lunegat, with a convenient mooring quay. I made for that instead, and spent the next two days there, waiting for the weather to moderate.
I cast off again on a bright sunny morning. I was a little early for the lock, so tied up on the staging which is provided by the side. Eventually I saw the lights change from red to red and green, meaning the lock would be opening soon. I started the engine, cast off, and engaged reverse. Nothing happened other than a rather nasty noise. I flicked it back into neutral, and tried again. Still nothing. By this time I had drifted into the channel. I hailed a passing German Bavaria for a tow.
If something like this had happened elsewhere, I might have been in very serious trouble. As it was, I was only a hundred yards from the YachtHaven, and they towed me across. I tied up and went to talk to Rob, the YachtHaven manager. He towed me round and arranged a lift out. I was even more fortunate - if that's the word - to have broken down at a YachtHaven with a crane.
Rob not only ran the YachtHaven, he was also what might be called the yard manager. We moved Prospero up to the crane, lowered the straps, and he then stood there with his remote control, guiding the boat out of the water and onto the shore (You can see the blue crane on the right of the photo above).
The propeller was loose on the shaft - indeed, it could be turned round by hand. It wasn't gripping the shaft at all. Rob phoned for an engineer, who took the prop off. What we saw caused much shaking of heads and intake of breath. The splines inside had completely worn away.
Fortunately, the Dutch engineer was able to source a new propeller - one with splines! - and fitted that. Neither the YachtHaven nor the engineer would take my card, so to pay them, I ended up being driven to the nearest town by the engineer, so I could withdraw cash from machine after machine!
But at least I now had a working prop.
27th January 2008
A Winter's Sail
I went down to Gosport on Saturday morning to help a friend take the mainsail off his boat and pack it up: it is a big main, and needed two of us to deal with it. Job done, he set off back to London, and I looked at the sky. The clouds had cleared and the sun was shining. It was only one o’clock. Why not take the boat out?
I have the use of a mooring in the Beaulieu, and the river entrance is only about ten miles from Gosport. The wind was quite brisk, and I was feeling lazy, so once outside the harbour entrance, I left the main in its bag, and unfurled the jib. The jib on Prospero is not big, but it was windier than I had thought. With twenty knots apparent wind, I was making 6 to 7 knots on the GPS (I’ll treat the 8.1 as an aberration!). Mind you, it did help having an ebb tide beneath me.
I got onto the mooring at sunset. I have mixed feelings about the Beaulieu: it is certainly one of the most beautiful rivers for miles around, and people rave about its beauty and remoteness, but I find it something of an aquatic M25 in the summer.
Not so in January. There were no bird calls. Even the aircraft on their way to Southampton airport seemed to be hibernating. There were lights on in the house near the mooring (I once said to a friend that you’d have to win the Lottery to afford one of those, but I think even Lottery money might not buy these houses).
I had put the heating on and closed the hatches before entering the river, so it was warm below. And I slept well.
The morning was clear and bright, with the sun beating down. Well, as much as it can in January. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t freezing either. The wind had dropped to about ten knots, and I motored down to the entrance. I didn’t hoist the main for two reasons: I was still feeling lazy, and with the flood with me, I’d be back in Gosport in no time. Instead, I unfurled the jib, and with the wind almost dead astern, ambled back, enjoying the sunshine. (In England! In January!)
I was tied up in Gosport by half past two, and drove home in the last of the twilight. I’m going to have to go down again tomorrow, though – I managed to leave my wallet on board. Just as well I didn’t need petrol on the way back.
21st January 2008
How to Give Yourself a Scare
Last summer I visited the Ecrehous, which are not much more than a clump of rocks north east of Jersey.
Prospero is on the bouy far left [actually rafted up against against another boat]. The others were in before me, and the tide was running out quite fast. I slowed down for a recce, and wa just about to move on when I saw a funny patch off water about six foot off the starboard side. It was obviously a rock just below the surface and we were drifting onto it rapidly. I slammed the engine on full throttle and just avoided it. My crew said it was worth it just to see the expression on my face. A little later, safely tied up, we saw the pinnacle break the surface as the tide dropped. It would not have been a good move to have hit it ...
The friends we were with have a small house perched on the rocks [not quite visible in the picture] where we were well fed and dined. We left late afternoon for St Peter Port, a little off the wind in a good F4. A Swan 39 left half an hour after me, and didn't catch me up before Guernsey!
The picture below shows the scene at low water:
Pictures courtesy Jeffrey Matthews
Update!
Jeffrey also sent me another photograph, which not only shows his own boat [foreground left], but gives a perfect view of the rock I so narrowly missed [marked with red arrow].
Fiften minutes earlier, and it would have been lurking deep enough not for me to see it, but shallow enough still to hit it. Fiften minutes later, and its ugly head would have reared above the surface.
I had been nicely on course until then, but I stopped to survey the moorings. A bad idea when the tide is rapidly sweeping you sideways. It doesn't take long to be pushed out of the channel.
10th January 2008
'I do not understand such behaviour ...'
The weather this summer wasn't ... well, let's be polite, and say it wasn't very good. Rather go round the outside of the Dutch Frisian Islands, which is a rather inhospitable bit of coast, I decided to go through the inland waterway from Lauersoog to Harligen.
Almost all the Dutch people I met were friendly, and several times they were extremely helpful - particularly when I had some trouble with the boat. But on two occasions, I obviously made a faux pas. One was not paying for a bridge.
I was single handed, and there was a lot of pressure to get through the lifting bridges as quickly as possible. I revved up and pointed the boat, then, just as I was going through, I saw a clog dangling. They wanted paying, and I had no money in my pockets - I hadn't realised you had to pay at this one. I couldn't leave the helm, and shouted something at them. 'Not good!', came the reply. There was another bridge a little way down. The wind was blowing quite hard, it was difficult to keep way on the boat, and there was a dirty great steel barge treading on my heels. A man appeared on a bicycle. 'Money!' I left the tiller and dashed below for some change. I edged into the quay, but didn't have time to put fenders on. As I passed over the money, the inevitable happened, and the wind blew the boat onto the hard concrete with a loud clunk. The man shrugged and disappeared. I managed to push off with a boat hook.
The other time was when I was in Dokkum lock:
It was the first opening of the day, and there weren't many boats. I got in, edged along, and seized a bar on the side and threaded some ropes through. There was a space ahead, but I looked back and saw the lock was only half full. No problem, then, I thought. Hang on while you can.
The gates closed and the lock began to fill. As the water rose, I heard the lock keeper's voice on the loudspeaker:
'English yacht, you have left a space in front of you. I do not understand such behaviour!'
Everyone pretended they weren't looking at me. I pretended nothing had happened. I motored out as nonchalantly as I could. Never leave a space in front of you! Even if the lock is half empty.
3rd January 2008
AIS - a technology whose time has come?
Nice journalistic title, isn't it? But I think it's true - AIS now is where GPS was ten years ago. Whilst it's not a substitute for radar, it looks to be very useful indeed if you regularly cross the Channel - and I intend to go across the North Sea in a couple of months!
One of the drawbacks to AIS systems is that you need an external VHF aerial. You have two options: use your existing VHF aerial and fit a splitter, or fit a second VHF aerial. Fitting a splitter increases the complexity of the fitting - the more upmarket AIS sets may have a built in splitter, but they are not, as yet, common. Fitting a second aerial has a problem: it mustn't be too close to the existing one, which rules out the masthead.
But does it have to be on the masthead? What sort of range due you need? I would suggest that ten miles would be far enough: I'm not that interested in ships twenty five miles away. This means that an aerial on the pushpit might well be the solution.
Next issue is display. Since what might be described as 'leisure AIS' is relatively new to the market, only the high end plotters will be able to display it. I think it's going to be two or three years more before AIS enabled plotters hit the mainstream. But I think there is a more fundamental problem: screen resolution. Most plotters have screen resolutions of 640 by 480 pixels. To me, they seem overcrowded already. Adding AIS data would be a nightmare, unless you start delving into submenus, which gives added complexity.
A few years ago, I bought an end of the range IBM laptop for use on the boat. It does what I want: chartplotter, word processing, web access, and even digital photo editing. It has a standard 1024 by 768 screen: modern laptops will be better than this. I interface it to a very basic GPS: the Garmin 152. The advantage of the laptop: better screen resolution, and you can upgrade the software. Drawback: it's down on the chart table.
So, deciding I wanted a laptop AIS system, next question is which? There is a system which seems to fit the bill exactly, made by Comar Systems. Navigate to 'PRODUCTS' and you will see the AIS-2-USB. This has several advantages from the laptop user point of view: (1) it connects via USB, which saves the usual USB/serial connector, (b) it is USB powered, so no wiring in to the boat electronics, (c) it doesn't need a GPS input. All it needs is a USB port and a VHF aerial (BNC connector). It become available at the end of January. JG Technology's price is £229.
Sadly, I'll need new software too: SeaPro+ from Euronav at £99. Irritatingly, it's one of those programs which needs a dongle!
29th December 2007
As the wind howls round the house, and the rain lashes down ...
It'll soon be summer ...
26th December 2007
Boxing Day Sail
I was in two minds about this: the Inshore Forecast give the wind as 4/5 increasing 6, and the skies had cleared afternight rain to leave a thin layer of ice on the car. But I drove down empty roads, to find it warmer in Gosport - and no wind. Well, 2 knots.
I motored out and headed for Gilkicker. There was some sun for a time, a small warmth on my face. Soon after Gilkicker, the wind began to fill in slightly - a southerly F2, which veered slowly as I approached Cowes. There were a few boats about, and I tied up on the river side of the long pontoon at Cowes Yacht Haven. Even in that light wind, and with few boats about, there was a surprising amount of surge. I went up to the marina office - no charge! Reeling slightly, I went to Sumerfields for sandwiches and a paper.
I had lunch in the cockpit reading the paper, and after taking the lines of a rather clueless mobo, set off back against a full spring ebb. I decided to head over to Browndown, but with the tide pushing me, I ended up nearer Lee on Solent. I put the main back up - the wind was still westerly F2 - and sailed slowly along the coast. As I got into Stokes Bay, I took advantage of the back eddy behind Gilkicker [it can reach a couple of knots or more]. Coming round the corner, I started the engine, put the heating on, and closed the washboards. I put the nav lights on at the same time, even though it wasn't much past three o'clock: I didn't want to have to go down again and let all the hot air out!
Getting into the harbour was fun: I had to push the revs right up to make any progress at all, and the swirls kept on throwing the boat from side to side. But motoring against the current inside the habour gave me time to hang out ropes and fenders, and take the main down.
I tied up soon after sunset. You can sail in the winter and still have fun!
22nd December 2007
Google Earth
Of course, you always have charts and pilot books for the next leg of your trip? Of course you do. But sometimes ... I wasn't quite sure what route I'd be taking going up through the Danish islands, and didn't buy all the necessary charts before leaving. I thought I'd be able to get them along the way. Well, no. I was reduced on one leg to a very small scale chart.
I headed north from Ballen in rather murky weather. According to my chart, I should have been okay round the top of the island - until I saw breaking water, then a sand bar just awash, between me and the island. There was a big Bavaria ahead. I reckoned he drew as much as me, so I followed as closely in his track as I could. Not altogether sensible, but luckily for me, it worked.
Whilst Google Earth won't really help you here, it is quite useful for harbours.
When entering a strange harbour, I find aerial photos nearly as useful - in some ways, more useful - than a plan or chart. The photo not only shows the layout, but allows you to recognise places in the harbour more quickly. A high quality Google Earth picture is almost as good.
You obviously need Internet access, but as part of the forward planning, you can 'screen capture' all the harbours you think you might visit, and save them to disk for no cost. [Hit the 'PrintScreen' button on your PC keyboard, open up your usual picture editing program, and paste the picture. Don't save as jpg but as tiff.]
On almost all the harbours in this guide, I've included links to the relevant Google Earth placemark. Clicking the link brings up a small kmz file. Run this, and it starts up Google Earth and takes you to the place in question. [If there is anyone who knows a simpler way of doing this, I'd be interested to hear it.]
As a slight curiousity, try this view of Den Helder,and see if you can work out what's going on!
18th December 2007
Where next year?
I collected the boat in Poland, and came home by a long and circuitous route: Poland, Lithuiania, Latvia, back to Lithuania and Poland, Eastern Germany [where I left the boat for the winter], Denmark and through the Limfjord, Jutland North Sea coast, Germany again [North Sea], Holland - and through some of the canals - Belgium, England, France, Channel Isles [including a visit to the Ecrehous] and finally now in Gosport!
So what next year? I had put my name for the Azores Jester Challenge [I went to the Azores in '98 in a 23 foot Virgo Voyager], but I also have a hankering to go back to the Baltic. Some parts are superb.
But it's a long haul along the Dutch and German North sea coasts. I'd really like to do it in a rush - but for that, I'd need a crew. I met a friend at the Earl's Court Boat Show, and he asked me my plans. I told him.
'I'll crew for you,' he volunteered. However, I think he was slightly less happy about the North Sea in April. I think he would have preferred May, at least. But the boat does have Webasto heating ...
The North Sea is tricky, with oil rigs and shipping lanes abounding. But I have a route: 360 miles Ramsgate to Cuxhaven, with a stop off half way at Den Helder. Weather, however, can screw up the best laid of plans!
15th December 2007
Earl's Court Boat Show.
I decided to give it a try, and went on the Thursday late opening evening, meeting up with a friend who was also curious to see what it would be like.
Well, there was nothing new, and nothing that I saw that made me say, 'I want one of those'. It was a pleasant wander round, but there weren't all that many people there. This meant that most of the exhibitors were very eager to talk to you [ironically, the one stand where I really did want to talk to someone, both reps were deep in conversation with some one else!] - indeed, sometimes too eager.
Excel is a bit too big and soulless; Southampton is good, but it's a very tedious site, split into three chunks with linking bridges. Southampton is the place to go to see boats [I bought Prospero after seeing it at Southampton]. On the other hand, lots of firms use the London Boat Show to showcase new kit.
I'll be going to Excel since I want to fit AIS to the boat. I use the laptop for navigation, and there's some promising new equipment.
11th December 2007
Fifteen minutes of Fame
My name in print! I have sold a four page article entitled 'Bringing Her Basck from Poland' to the magazine Sailing Today. It is in the January 2008 issue, which is currently on sale.
It describes buying Prospero in Poland, my adventures there, and what I thought of the boat.
It's not the first time my face has appeared in the magazine: they wanted to write up the Trapper 500 in their second hand boat tests, and I volunteered my services, going out on a rather brisk day from the Hamble. Got some nice pictures of the boat from it.
I'm the one in the yellow jacket. Duncan Kent, now editor of Sailing Today, is in the red.
27th November 2007
Instruments
I have just fitted one of these - a Nexus wireless wind indicator.
I had thought Tacktick had the monopoly, but no longer - and the Nexus kit was around £200 cheaper. Only the wind indicator is wireless - the log and depth wire directly to the network, and the display is wired to the network box. This means you can't take it off and walk around with it - but that's of limited value. The great asset is no wires down the mast - and even when you get to the bottom of the mast, I would still have had to have tried to feed the cable through the inner lining, which I can imagine might be a fraught business. [All the wires (VHF, lights) run down the mast and come out directly into the boat. There are a couple of small wooden panels either side of the mast support which give you access, so you can disconnect them if you're taking the mast off. No more cable glands and dodgy plugs outside!]
A rigger at Gosport went up the mast to fit the mounting for the anemometer. It's not quite central. When I took it out for a test sail, it was gving readings which varied about 12-15 degrees from port to starboard tack. There is the possibility that the boat sails better on one tack than the other, but I also tried it downwind, looking for the point where the jib was just blanketed by the main. Again a similar difference. This means the mounting's about 6 degrees off - but you can add an offset in the setup menu. It will probably need some trial and error, but I don't need pinpoint accuracy.
The log/depth is a simple Raymarine bidata and came with the boat. The NASA repeater is linked to a Garmin 152 inside - cheap and cheerful, but it works.
24th November 2007
Riddle of the Sands
I bought the DVD of Riddle of the Sands not long ago, and watched again this evening.
It was filmed in 1978, but wears quite well – after all, the setting is the Frisian Islands in the 1900s. I think if they tried filming it there today they’d have problems with all the empty seascapes, now that the islands are filled with large plastic yachts, and the shore littered with windfarms.
It’s a rare book which I can’t get to the end of, but Riddle of the Sands is, unfortunately, one of those. I just find it ... tedious.
The film simplifies the plot, but does it well – at least, as far as I can tell. It’s good Boys’ Own stuff, with stirring performances from Michael Yorke and Simon MacCorkindale. The transition of Michael Yorke from foppish man about town to action hero isn't entirely convincing, however. Jenny Agutter isn't altogether convincing either. The sailing scenes are, on the whole, well done, and the feeling of the islands is well captured. Today, the harbours are very different – I spent half the film trying to spot anachronisms! - and the filming never shows the harbours in wideshot, but concentrates on the area which has obviously been chosen for its ‘authenticity’.
I was there last summer, stopping at Nordeney and Borkum. I didn’t go through the ‘watten’ - the channels between the islands and the mainland – for two reasons. One was that I was going the ‘wrong way’ - it’s easier to go west to east, and I was going the other way. The second is that I have a copy of Mark Brackenbury’s Frisian Pilot (rather outdated now – published 1979), and he suggests a maximum draft of 1.5m for the route. I draw 1.8m, and wasn’t going to risk it!
Nordeney harbour entrance - summer 2007.
18th November 2007
Charts and the laptop
I have been using my laptop as a plotter for a few years now. Indeed, I bought it with this in mind. It is an IBM - an end of the range model being offered cheap (just over £600) by Novatech in Portsmouth (I have used them a lot over the years for computer stuff, and have found them good value). I got an IBM hoping that it would live up to its reputation for being solid and reliable - and to date, it has. Its only real limitation is in having just 2 USB ports, and they're USB 1.1. Fortunately, I have acquired a PCMCIA card, by an indirect route, which has 2 USB2 ports - useful for hanging extra disks or memory on the side, or downloading from the digital camera.
I bought a program called SeaTrak, which works okay, although it has a few rough edges. It uses the Admiralty ARCS charts. The annoying feature of these is that you have have a special dongle in a USB port. The ARCS charts are good but expensive. Often the expense is worth it, but a full set of all the charts I would like would cost a fortune.
You get a CD with all the charts of the area on it, and, separately, a small file which gives you permission to install the ones you have paid for. This works well, and makes them easy to transfer to my desktop. Which brings me to my next point.
I also have some BSB charts from Maptech Marine. (They could be described as 'cheap and cheerful'!) This uses the free Chart Navigator program. The German Sportschiffahrtskarten packs (try saying that in a hurry) come with paper editions, and also the same charts in BSB format, also to be used in Chart Navigator. There is a snag to both of them. You have to go online or phone for an unlocking code. Can be a hassle, but worth it.
The trouble is that the code is unique to one installation of Windows on one computer. To interface to the GPS, I use a USB/serial converter. I don't know why or how, but this device can seriously upset the macine - to the point where it started corrupting system files. Eventually, I bit the bullet and took the machine to a chap down the road to re-install Windows (he charged £75). But now the charts refused to re-install. Wrong code on the laptop.
To be fair to Maptech, they did respond to my request for a new code, but I'm not sure I'm going to be able to re-install the German charts.
So - one snag to using a laptop - you may lose access to some of your charts if you upgrade.
12th November 2007
Donald Crowhurst - 'Deep Water'
This was shown recently on Channel 4, but I bought the DVD.
It's a slightly surprising topic for a full length feature film, but it sustained interest throughout, and never ran out of steam, which says a lot for the production.
I was obviously much more interested in the sailing side, and, by and large, I was not disappointed. There were certainly no gross errors that I noticed, no dodgy 'computer simulations'. There was also a fair amount of contemporary footage which, at the time, went to the cutting floor, but which has since been retrieved.
The one disappointment was that the film concentrated on Crowhurst, Knox Johnson, and Montessier, and almost completely ignored the rest. It would have been good to have heard more about them - their boats, and why they had to give up.
The film also gave a good feel for the sheer impossibility of the event, given the boats of the 1960s - and it could have elaborated this further. The only two which could or did make it round were Knox Johnson and Montessier, in solid, robust boats. Even so, Knox Johnson, in his book, describes the repaitrs he had to make underway - repairs which would defeated someone who was less practical and resourceful. (Suhaili took part in the Round the Island Race a couple of years back. We were running down from Bembridge Ledge to the finish, a light southeasterly behind us, struggling to make it before the race closed down. Suhaili came past a little way off, and the Great Man shouted something like: 'Don't think we're going to make it in time.' I shouted something banal in reply. Looking at Suhaili today, one is astonished at how small she is.)
Crowhurst's boat was a trimaran, built from plywood. To be honest, I think it would have had no chance in the Southern Ocean, and Crowhurst knew that, deep down, he had bitten off more than he could chew, and was afraid to back out for reasons of pride and money. It's a sorry story, but what would you or I have done in his shoes?
I think by the end, he had completely lost touch with reality. One thought occured to me: if he had a liferaft, he could have punched a hole in the bottom of the boat - preferably when he was close to a shipping lane - got into the life raft, and said, when rescued: 'Sorry, chaps, no time to rescue the logbook.' Or, 'Look, it got soaked.' But in the end, I think he had tried in so many ways to cover up, that finally it was all too much for him.
It also shows the difference between boat building in the 60s, and today. Now, the question is not whether you can get round, but whether you can do so at a steady 20 knots! So much for the 'they built 'em better in those days'!
A thought provoking film - especially for those of us who sail any distance single handed!
5th November 2007
Prospero is now is Gosport Marina for the winter. The cheap winter deals are not much more expensive than storing her ashore, and it means I can go sailing from time to time. A lot of wash rolls into the marina, but fortunately Prospero doesn't roll as much as my previous boats. I'm on a hammerhead right at the very end of the pontoon. I was dubious about this at first, but it has several advantages. It's the lee side of the prevailing wind, which might make mooring a little tricky from time to time, but I much prefer the boat being blown off the pontoon rather than onto it. I can moor either port or starboard side to, depending on wind and tide. I don't have to worry about the boat next to me. And I don't have to slam into reverse to avoid ramming the main pontoon. All in all, very useful.
4th November 2007
Nick Ward - 'Left for Dead'
Nick Ward was aboard the yacht Grimalkin during the 1979 Fastnet Race. Grimalkin was one of the boats which was rolled over by the seas, probably more than once, and dismasted. Just before the roll over, a decision had been taken to abandon the boat for the life raft - a decision Nick disagreed with. After the boat had righted itself, Nick and another crew member were, in the words of the title, 'left for dead' by the rest of the crew.
The book describes his experiences quite vividly, and is well written. It is certainly worth reading.
I read Rousmaniere's book 'Fastnet Force Ten' years ago, lost my copy, and recently bought another. What is the fascination of books such as these?
First of all, if you sail out of sight of land, there is always the possibility you might get caught out in bad weather - perhaps not Fastnet or Sydney/Hobart weather, but there is always the chance the forecasters have got it wrong [and we all have tales of that!]. What's the best course of action? Could you cope?
Well, the average cruising boat is not going have the strong crew that a racing boat might have, and racing boats, when faced with a forecast of F6 or 7, will shrug, reef down and head out. They will do it when you won't, and they will have the experience to do it. However, even if your sailing is just the occasional cross Channel trip, there is something to be said for heading out of harbour on days when the wind is blowing, simply to find out what it's like. One of the messages these books send is that when things get rough, everything becomes ten times more difficult. Experience might be hard earned, but is worth acquiring.
From the sailing point of view, Ward's book is interesting. I could have done with more on what it was like being out there as the storm built. It is well covered, but inevitably a lot of the focus is on what happened after he was left on the boat. But this too has its interest - one of the lessons of the Fastnet is that things were not secured well enough, and I know I've been guilty of that even in a F5 - things have landed on the floor which should have been stowed more carefully.
It's certainly worth a read - it's a good story well told. It's worth remembering that the chances of being caught up in something like this is fairly remote - although it might give you a fright, it also gives you food for thought.
Ward's Left for Dead on Amazon
Rousmaniere's Fastnet Force Ten on Amazon